


Father To Be

by GayAquarius



Category: Bob's Burgers (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Fatherhood, Fluff, Gen, Light-Hearted, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Pre-Canon, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:10:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6952399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayAquarius/pseuds/GayAquarius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Linda and Bob are a childless married couple struggling to get by even without any extra mouths to feed. That's why, when Linda tells Bob her period is late, it rocks his world. Sure, he wanted kids someday, but is now the best time? Bob is scared, for lots of reasons, and doesn't react well - namely, he doesn't react at all. This leaves Linda very frustrated with him. </p><p>Between Linda telling him this and getting a pregnancy test, he has time to smooth things over with Linda and come to terms with the possibility he might be a father in 9 months. He becomes more comfortable with the possibility as he thinks about it some more, and oddly enough... he begins to hope that Linda's pregnancy test does come out positive, despite his previous fear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The News

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure whether to tag this as m/f or general. Because while this does focus somewhat on Bob and Linda's relationship, it's about more than that... so I tagged it with both. Hope you enjoy!

“Bob, I have something I need to tell you.”

She usually calls me Bobby.

When she calls me Bob, it's serious, at least most of the time. This much I know. All I can manage to do is nod. I stare into her eyes, searching for some indication of how she feels, what direction this conversation was going in. No matter how much I look, I can't find any hint of where she's headed with her words. She hesitates. I see our entire relationship flash before my eyes. In far too much detail, I remember every mistake I ever made. Perhaps it isn't justified, but I worry for the fate of our marriage.

“Bobby, you look terrified. I'm sorry. I know that line is pretty vague and scary. I just... I don't know how to say this.”

She's back to calling me Bobby. This makes me feel better, but not by a lot.

I can probably count on one hand how many times Linda has been at a loss of words over the time I knew her, even if I got in an accident where I lost some of my fingers. Even if what she was saying wasn't carefully planned, she always filled the silence with something. Generally, I loved it and how it counteracted with my quiet nature. I want that Linda back. I wish she'd say something, even if her words came out stupid or rash.

I want to say something myself, but all I can do is stare at her with what I imagined to be wide, terrified eyes.

“Well... there's no guarantees or anything, but my period is a bit late.”

“Late?” This word exits my mouth, but only barely. Although I heard what she said just fine, it took time for my brain to process what the implications of her words. “You mean...”

She interjects, saying, “I don't know, Bobby. I haven't taken a pregnancy test yet. I was gonna go pick one up soon, but I figured I should warn you so it doesn't come as a total surprise if it turns out positive.” I try to react in some way, but the words keep getting trapped in the back of my throat. “ _Hello!”_ Linda stresses each syllable of the word separately, and starts to sound agitated. “Are you even listening?”

There's so much I want to say.

I want to tell her that I'm scared. Scared about our financial future. Scared we won't be able to provide for our hypothetical child, if there is one. Scared genetics will find a way to screw them up. Scared now isn't the right time to have a baby. Scared it will never be the right time.

But I think the thing that scares me most is that I wouldn't be good enough dad, that I'd be like my dad.

None of these words come out. Eventually, she gives up trying to talk to me, and storms off in a huff. I stand in place, still pondering the interaction that just took place. I know I screwed up, and I'm not sure how to fix it.

_

I sit on the living room couch to continue my reflection in peace. Linda, I believe, stormed off back to the bedroom. At this point, I wonder if reacting with the abject terror I felt within me would have been better. Most things would be better than staring at her blankly, not even verbally acknowledging what she had said.

I still remember the night when we were both a bit too drunk to bother with our usual protection. I suppose we thought it didn't matter, that one time without wouldn't hurt. In a drunken haze, our good judgment went out the window. This happened less than a month ago, but it felt like an eternity. The Bob I was back then felt younger, more naive. At first I wish I could go back in time and tell him to put on a condom, but then I wonder if that's how I really feel.

It's not as if I'm entirely opposed to fatherhood. I had wanted kids for as long as I could remember. But now? Is now the right time? Are we in an acceptable position to be bringing children into the world? Kids are a big deal. I can't be anything less than totally serious about this. This is important.

Next thing I knew, I found myself thinking of names for a future child that I'm not even sure exists.


	2. The Discussion

I almost feel surprised when I check the clock and see over an hour passed since I began thinking about the possibility of becoming a dad. At the same time, I'm really not. I'm a chronic over-thinker, and tonight only proved it further.

When I open the door to the master bedroom, Linda is laying on the bed, reading a book. She sees me come in and lets out an irritated grunt. Although she isn't one to hold grudges, I feel her anger radiate from her.

“Lin,” I say, clearing my throat. I hope she won't go at my throat for using her nickname. “I'm sorry for earlier. What you said was... a lot to swallow. I didn't react very well.” She places the book on the nightstand, and looks at me directly. Seeing her eyes only proved further how steamed she was. I lean against the bedroom wall, hoping it would give me some desperately needed support. It doesn't.

“You sure didn't react well,” she sneers. “Or rather, you didn't react at all, which is almost worse. Do you care at all?”

“Of course I care, Linda! I'm just...” My voice trails off. A thought that started out so powerfully fizzles out like it's nothing. “I... I just...”

“You just what?” Usually, even when Linda is unhappy, it isn't like this. This is an anger I'm not used to. For the first time in ages, I truly fear for the end of our relationship for reasons other than irrational paranoia. For the briefest moment, I sort of feel like I'd deserve that.

“I'm scared,” I whisper. We stare at each other wordlessly. Her glance softens, and goes from looking enraged to vaguely sad. I begin to notice how much she's blinking. It's as if she's trying to avoid breaking down in tears right then and there.

Eventually, she utters, “Me too, Bobby. Me too.” After some more eye contact, she pats the spot next to her on the bed. I walk over, plop down, and stare at the ceiling. “I'm more scared than I ever want to admit. I think the nerves got to me... sorry I lashed out.”

“I'm sorry I didn't react, Lin. I think I'm ready to react now for what it's worth.” Usually, I'd laugh at this statement of mine, despite it not being very funny. However, this time, I can't muster even the slightest chuckle. “Where do we even start?”

“We're struggling to make rent kid free. I don't think we're ready to have a baby.”

“Is anyone?”

When I say this, Linda turns her head. She looks at me, and there's a slight smile on her face. It's not her usual cheeky grin, but she looks much more at peace than she did in the beginning of this conversation.

“You're right,” she says.

“About what?” I ask. I'm surprised to hear that I'm right about anything right now. I feel like a bumbling idiot regarding this subject.

“I don't think anyone is ready to be a parent. There are plenty of kids who grow up poor, with parents that can barely provide for them. And from what I've seen, those parents are usually better than the rich ones who think they know what they're doing, because they love their kids unconditionally and aren't afraid to admit when they messed up, y'know?”

“Wow. Profound, Linda,” I reply. She playfully punches my shoulder.

“Stop!” Linda gushes.

“I'm just kidding, Lin. No worries.” I stare at the ceiling more, thinking about everything that was just said. “You know what? Regardless of the news, I think I'll be fine. If you're not pregnant, then great. If you are, then it's fine. I think we'll manage.”

“I'm glad we've reached this point,” Linda responds. “Maybe we should get to bed early? I know it hasn't been a busy day, but I'm still really tired. I guess all of this took it out of me.”

“That's a good idea. Not to mention, if the test does come up positive, we should get a good night's sleep to stomach that news, right?”

As we both changed into our pajamas, Linda says, “Definitely. Oh, and by the way, if I am pregnant, expect a lot more mood swings like that one, and for no real reason. I hear they're real bad when you're pregnant.” These words catch me off guard. I sit on the edge of the bed with my pajama pants only halfway pulled up. “Maybe it's a sign I already am?” She chuckles, although it's clearly somewhat forced.

“I guess we'll see, right Lin?” I pull my pants up all the way, flopping back onto the bed.

“Yep,” she says, switching off the light. We snuggle up with one another, and she takes the usual position of laying on my chest. I wonder if she can feel how much my heart is thumping. “Night, Bobby. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I reply.

I realize, in that moment, that deep down, a part of me truly hoped the test would come out positive, despite everything. Despite the million and one reasons I shouldn't want that. I close my eyes, and imagine holding my firstborn child. A certain warmth creeps up on my face. I feel myself smile.

I'd have to ask Linda if it does turn out positive, but I like the names Daniel for a boy and Tina for a girl.

If someone were to ask me what gender I want my first kid to be, they'd expect me to respond in a stereotypical fashion. That I didn't care, as long as the baby turns out healthy. Deep down, that's not true. I want her to be a girl. I picture it. Tina. Tina. The name echoes through my mind, and it makes me happy.

Once again, I realize I'm over-thinking about a baby that may not exist. I feel embarrassed at my behavior, but it's a far step from where I was earlier today. I'm still scared, and I'm still realistic about this hypothetical baby and the hardships that would follow. Regardless, I'm in a better place than I was. I'm no longer just feeling fear. I'm also feeling giddy. Embarrassingly giddy. I can't tell anyone about those thoughts, not even Linda.

I find myself wondering how she'd feel if she knew I secretly wanted the test to be positive. I also wonder if she felt the same way, on any level.

I need to go to sleep.


	3. The Results

The next day, I tend to the restaurant while Linda goes out to get a pregnancy test. She isn't out for long, but it feels like she was away for hours. When she comes back, she says she wants to wait until we close up to take the rest. She didn't want our reaction, regardless of the result, to get in the way of our work.

I'm the hard worker of this relationship, at least in most cases. But this time, I want nothing more than to close up the restaurant and find out _right now._ I need to know whether I'm going to be a dad in nine months or not. The thought distracts me as I continue to cook up orders. At one point, I nearly burn someone's burger because I'm preoccupied. I embarrass myself, yet again. I should be better than this.

The end of the work day couldn't come soon enough.

_

We go upstairs to the living room after we closed for the night. She holds the pregnancy test in her hand. I look at her, trying to urge her with my eyes. I can't wait anymore. I need to know. It's been a while since I've felt this intensely about, well, anything. Oh my God. What's happening to me? I guess if there's any appropriate time to feel this way, it's now. Like I said to myself yesterday, this is important.

“Bobby, calm down. You're breathing all heavy,” Linda says.

“Oh God, I am,” I reply, trying to slow down. I sit down on the couch, feeling distinctly overwhelmed.

“I get it. I need to just... get this over with. But I guess I'm nervous, you know? I feel better than I did yesterday, but I'm still scared,” she explains.

“I understand... but waiting isn't going to help.” I say this partially because it's true, and partially because I _can't_ wait anymore.

“You're right, Bobby. Anyway, I guess I gotta go pee on this stick. Is this really the only way they can test if I'm pregnant? Sheesh. It's gross. Bleh.”

She shrugs, and heads to the bathroom. I continue to sit on the couch. I stare at the floor. There's not much else I can do. I tap my foot, waiting for her to get her results. I close my eyes.

Next thing I know, the bathroom door swings open, hitting the wall behind it. I jump. She bolts out to the living room, tossing the pregnancy test onto the coffee table.

“Bobby! Look!”

I pick up the pregnancy test. One stripe means not pregnant, and two stripes means pregnant. I look closer. One stripe... two stripes.

She's pregnant.

Are there tears in my eyes? Oh my God. I think I'm crying.

“Lin...”

“Bobby... how do you feel right now?” I realize my reaction could be cryptic. The tears, the speechlessness. I need to say something. I need to assure her that I'm not crying out of fear. At least, that's not my primary reason. I feel so many things right now.

“I'm... so happy, Lin,” I say, my voice cracking. And I mean it. She sits down next to me, and puts her hand on my thigh. We sit there in silence for a bit, absorbing the moment.

“I'm happy too. Scared, but happy,” Linda admits.

I try to sniff my snot back in. I realize that such a beautiful moment was made slightly disgusting with my messy crying.

“So, how do you like the names Daniel for a boy, and Tina for a girl?” I ask.

“They're wonderful, Bobby. We have plenty of time to make a final decision, but I think those are great names.”

In that moment, it was so easy to picture myself having a child named Tina... or Daniel. Hopefully Tina. I picture her having Linda's eyes. It felt natural, somehow. _Right._ Far more right than it did yesterday, when I was too scared to react.

I close my eyes and picture Tina in my head again. I smile. Although it's probably based on nothing, I get somewhat of a vibe it _will_ be a girl named Tina that arrives in nine months. A strong hunch. 

“ _See you soon,”_ I think to myself.


End file.
